Rogueblade
by HeWhoShallForeverStandAlone
Summary: Not actually based in Randland or the Wheel of Time universe. This story is but heavily influenced by Robert Jordan's work, with occasional references to entities within Randland itself. Rogueblade is an introduction to Jak, a ranger of Worstar.
1. Chapter 1

Jak was an odd fellow. He was a man of rare quality and questionable behaviour, he often could be found to pendulum between one end of a decision to the other on the merest of whims. His biggest drawback in terms of his character was that he laughed too much, felt sorrow so bitterly and fell in love too quickly and too hard. This is perhaps how Jak was to be found lying quite still and quite silent next to a river in the middle of the day, his head poked over one side and his arm deep to the wiry muscle beneath his shoulder in the crystalline depths of the Hogsmylle river. Tentatively he tickled the fish that was hiding under the rock of the rivers edge on top of its head, to which the fish gave a little squirm- and in an instant, Jak's hand clasped around the fish's fat belly and hauled in out in to the air. Jak smiled as he laid the fish next to the other two he had previously caught that day- he had been there all afternoon, waiting and waiting for the foolish fish to succumb to his tickles. Whistling idly as he produced a small knife from nowhere in particular and began descaling the fishes, he would eat well tonight.

Jak was of the wandering kin of Worstar, he found himself roving around the towns and villages near his home- from Eppon in the south, to Kinnstone in the north. He applied himself to a hundred tasks, though was master of none. He was a man of stories, of gambling, of drinking and of wenching. Many called him friend and few muttered enemy of Jak- and any who did often found themselves the wrong side of his twin short swords, with which he was at least competent (though he'd never be a warrior of renown). It was as the night was drawing on, the fish were now cooked and safely in Jak's belly, Jak lay under a rather stout looking oak tree, his saddle bags under his head for a pillow and a pipe stem between his teeth that Jak began to ponder his next movements. He pondered long and hard, until the sun had slipped beneath the horizon and the stars shone overhead. His horse, Swift, whickered in her sleep as an owl hooted ostentatiously from a nearby redwood. The coals of Jak's fire burnt low and it was not long before he found himself dozing, his pipe tumbled from his mouth, his wide brimmed hat felt over his eyes and he succumbed to the world of dreams.

Jak stumbled down a large wooded embankment towards a small, yet fast running stream no wider than six paces- which he jumped in one smooth motion as if mass and weight were of no importance. The air hummed as if excited, though whether it hummed malevolently or benevolently- he could not say. A fine mist hung over the ground, swirling and eddying has Jak strode towards his destination- a soft light in the distance. He dodged between pine and birch, ash and fir- his feet crunching upon a bed of leaves, needles, acorns and conkers. Until eventually, suddenly, he reached his destination. He halted mid stride, his chest barely moving despite the exertion of his run. Before him stood a tall, slender female figure garbed in a flowing gown of silver and blue. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the strange light, and her long dark hair hung full and flowing down her back. Wordlessly he stumbled towards her, one arm outstretched- and as he did, the light dimmed to almost pitch darkness. He grasped her hand and pulled her around to face him, with no time to take in what he was seeing he lowered his mouth to hers as the darkness rolled over him…

The kiss was sloppy and wet, with the taste of straw and smell of horse heavy on her breath. Jak's eyes snapped open, Swift stood above him washing his face faithfully. Jak rolled aside and wretched in disgust, spitting widely he fumbled for his water bottle, rinsed his mouth and spat- a process he repeated until he felt satisfied the horse taste was gone. He turned,

"What under the Gods do you think you're doing you crazy mare!" he spluttered,

Swift looked at least a little abashed, looking downwards and pawing at the floor with one hoof. Jak shook his head; he knew he should have hobbled her before he turned in for the night. Kicking some dirt over the now cold coals of his campfire, he set about saddling Swift and attaching his saddle bags. Swinging his long green cloak around his shoulders, securing his twin short swords and settling his wide brimmed black hat. A quick search of the site revealed he had nearly left behind his pipe and pouch of tabac. Shaking his head ruefully he swung up onto Swift and heeled her into a slow trot out of the small copse of trees next to Hogsmylle and towards the dirt track which stretched from north to south as far as the eye could see. Jak pondered for a moment, he never had come to a conclusion the night before. He had been alone for a long time however, and provisions were running low. Need pushed him, he would travel to nearby Reynes for supplies and perhaps he'd stop by local tavern for a drink, maybe a few games of dice and perhaps even some female company. Whistling to himself merrily he turned eastward and began a slow canter across country to his destination.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the middling village of Reynes. The people here were a merry sort, close enough to the greater towns to enjoy good trade and yet small enough that every one knew each other's business quite intimately. Jak drew rein beside a likely looking tavern, the wooden sign swinging in a gentle breeze declared, _Easing the Badger_, and pictured a farmer chasing a badger with a silver shovel. Smiling to himself, Jak dismounted and lead Swift round the back to the stable. The moment he entered the cobbled yard a young stablehand jumped forward to take the reins, detailing Swift's requirements as he untied his saddlebags, Jak touched the front of his hat and flipped a silver penny at the boy before turning and entering the tavern. He was instantly greeted by a great wave of heat, raucous laughter and the aroma of roast meat and ale. He eyed the room interestedly, several long tables arrayed sporadically around the sawdust covered floor. On a small stage at the end of the room a young girl plucked masterfully at her harp and sang of such things that her innocent disposition denied knowledge of. Jak tugged at his collar coyly. Advancing to the bar he caught the eye of a rather round bartender garbed in a taut white apron, which we was using to polish a rather fine looking silver tankard.

"Good afternoon, master. My name is Bil Arend, owner and barkeep of the _Badger_. I can offer you a wide range of wines and ales, or perhaps you would be interested in something to eat or even a room- cleanest rooms in all Reynes can the _Badger_ boast!"

he said this all very fast,

"Thank you, neighbour. I'll take a room for the night provided you don't rob me too blind, a tankard of something strong wouldn't go amiss either- and I'll see what appetising eats you can proffer perhaps later this eve."

replied Jak. The barkeep looked somewhat confused for a moment, Jak's accent had the habit of lilting between common speak and that of a noble's seemingly without prior warning. They haggled for a moment over the price, and before long Jak was opening his leather pouch to hand over twice the amount of coin he had hoped to part with. He wasn't grumbling too much though, he was more than sure he could make it up at the dice tables. Before long he found himself sauntering over to a group of rough looking men, mostly farmhands, merchant guards and few young nobles of minor houses- they were all crouched around a piece of wall where one individual was shaking a leather cup of dice- which he cast to reveal three sets of five pips and two of six. A winning roll evidently as the man let out a ululating cry, at which his companion scrubbed his hands through his hair and shook his head irritably. Silver and copper changed hands at an alarmingly quick rate, and after several tankards of frothing ale, Jak was himself dicing and carousing with the best of them. He won more than he lost, and more than once the men looked at him suspiciously and whispered of foul play. Heading off a potential problem, Jak quickly fished out a gold crown from about his person and declared,

"Drinks on me!"

Instantly he was a hero and even the barkeep seemed happy with the business he was receiving as the result of Jak's luck at dice, after all- losing throws require more ale to drown sorrows. He took up a stool near the stage and took to watching the harper intently, which was about all he could do as by now Jak was more than a little befuddled. She was a pretty little thing with flaxen hair in a multitude of thin braids, a pale complexion with flushed cheeks from an evening spent singing and playing, she was perhaps a little scrawny for Jak's taste- but beggars couldn't be choosers. He winked at her and she afforded him a small smile. As she finished the last note of her previous song (concerning the folly of three sheepherders who had fallen for a lord's daughter), she turned to him as he clapped with a sarcastic enthusiasm.

"And what can I play for the lucky young rogue from the Gods knows where?"

She drawled huskily,

"Oh, let me think. How about, _Lend Me A Gold Coin_?"

His response resulted in a tinkling laugh before she settled and began to strum and sing:

_Well Ho There Friend!  
Could You Lend Me A Gold Coin?  
The Wife Run Off With The Neighbour!_

_But Bless Me! Bless Me! What Be Her Name?  
For A Kiss From Her I'd Labour!_

_With Eyes So Bright, And Hips So Round.  
I'm The Glad The Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!  
With Legs So Long, And Breasts So Pert.  
I'm The Glad The Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!_

_Well Ho There Friend!  
Could You Lend Me A Gold Coin?  
The Wife Run Off With The Neighbour!_

_With The Girl At The Bar, I Be Dancin' Dancin'.  
How A Kiss From Her I'd Savour!_

_With Lips So Full, And Hands So Gentle.  
I'm The Glad The Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!  
With A Behind So Tight, And Ankles So Fine.  
I'm The Glad The Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!_

_Well Ho There Friend!  
Could You Lend Me A Gold Coin?  
The Wife Run Off With The Neighbour!_

_With The Girl On My Knee, I Be Courtin' Courtin'.  
For A Kiss From Her, How I'd Love Her!_

_With A Voice Like Chimes, And Hair So Soft.  
I'm The Glad The Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!  
With A Laugh So Gay, And A Heart So True.  
I'm The Glad The Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!_

_Well Ho There Friend!  
Could You Lend Me A Gold Coin?  
The Wife Run Off With The Neighbour!_

_With The Girl On My Knee, I Be Wedded Wedded.  
Her Kiss Makes My Heart Flutter!_

_But I Tell You Friend, I Be Worried Worried.  
The Wife's Over At The Neighbours.  
Oh Bloody! Bloody Ashes! I Don't Believe It! _

_My Wife Ran Off With The Neighbour!_

It was obviously a popular choice amongst the frequenters of the _Badger_, for the song had barely entered the second line before flagons had been downed the patrons began a rush to push aside tables and chairs and begin an energetic (if unsophisticated dance). Which was how Jak found himself with one arm soaked in ale, with his hands upon the waist of a plump little serving maid- her face red from the sudden exertion of dancing. The men twisted and turned, exchanging female partners as the reel grew faster and more intricate. Jak's head swirled somewhat from what he was sure was tiredness and lack of food, and never at all the excess of ale. Eventually, much to Jak's relief, the dance ended- and Jak bobbed his head, hat to heart to the minor female noble he had ended with. She smiled at him in a sympathetic way, before she hobbled off. Jak happily procured himself a new tankard, amidst the laughter, clapping and roars for more from the patrons. Gulping thirstily, he leant against the bar and turned round to snatch a look at the harper- but to his dismay she was now being replaced by an ugly duo of male twins playing the dulcimer and the zither. Sighing inwardly Jak fumbled for his pipe and tabac pouch, as he cast his eyes down however he immediately met the large green eyes of the harper,

"Gods! You shouldn't creep up on a man like that; I was nearly in an early grave!"

Jak exclaimed as he leaped back in surprise, and nearly dropping his newly discovered pipe and pouch.

"Oh come now, am I really that scary?"

the harper replied in a mock-upset voice, though her eyebrows rose and her arms crossed beneath her breasts in an assessing sort of way.

"Terrifying(!)"

Jak replied fumbling awkwardly with his pipe, for some reason his fingers felt bereft of their normal deft qualities, and the job of filling the bowl of his pipe had become almost challenging. The harper snorted and took the pouch and pipe from his hands and began filling it for him,

"You're lucky you're so handsome. I don't usually talk to patrons, especially drunken gamblers with two left feet."

Jak opened his mouth to reply indignantly, but felt himself sway and decided to concentrate on leaning against the bar. He took her moment of concentration to consider her, gather himself and take another long draught of his ale. Finishing, she handed him his pipe and retrieved a burning taper to light it for him. To which he thanked her and began the never tedious, ever exhilarating process of seducing her. Which even he had to admit, took surprisingly little time- despite his state of mind. She claimed it was his winning smile, he thought it was because she was a naught but a slip of a girl who kept sipping from his tankard. People today simply couldn't handle their drink.


	3. Chapter 3

That was perhaps how Jak found himself not many hours later outside the back alley of the tavern, against the wall and locked in a firm embrace with the female harper. It was slightly haphazard altogether lacking any sophistication- but Jak was not a fussy man. The night air was remarkably cool in comparison to the heat of the common room, and it was as their activity started to a reach a new level of intimacy, (for the harper had just slipped her hands down Jak's breeches), that a halt was called.

"Mercy me, your hands are cold!"

exclaimed Jak as he leapt back suddenly. The harper merely shrugged and giggled suggestively, whilst readjusting her bodice.

"Well then that's the end to your sport tonight, rogue."

Jak winced, then recovered admirably,

"Not unless, you're willing to join me in my rooms in the _Badger_. The best in the house the barkeep claimed."

the harper smiled wickedly,

"Bil would say that, he can smell coin from a league off. Very well, I'll come with you to your chambers. But you'll have to sneak me up the backstairs- else the tavern guard see us."

It was perhaps testament to Jak's lack of sobriety that to question on why they should fear over discovery by the tavern guard failed to cross his mind. Taking it upon himself to amuse the harper via a display of over caution as they scaled the backstairs and located his rooms- his saddlebags and other articles had been taken up already –he felt almost pride on the fulfilment of her charge. Then again, Jak hadn't noticed that the stablehand, a serving maid and another patron had all witnessed their entry. Once inside with the door bolted, the harper made no airs about swiftly removing every stitch of her clothing and laying back luxuriously on the thin pallet Jak supposed counted for a bed in the _Badger_. She cooed at him and motioned him to do the same, whilst running two fingers along her curves- leaving little to the imagination, even one as befuddled as Jak's.

Hastily, all pretence of sophistication abandoned, Jak began pulling and tearing at his own garments. Nonetheless, there was an air of preparation about his frantic activity, every small article about his person possible he heaped inside his boots, and oh-so carefully did he fold his articles of clothing and place his twin short swords against the wall at arms length. Within moments however, he was finished and stood in naught but his small clothes. Slowly he turned to the sprawled harper and smiled- Jak always enjoyed the moment of anticipation more than the actual moment itself. That moment of stillness was almost too sweet and perfect to last, something Jak would ruefully grin over later- for it was as he took his first step towards the bed that the entire scene was capsized.

The door to his room slammed open against the wall and rattled Jak to his very teeth. The room flooded with guttering light, which outlined a large, burly figure of a man carrying a cudgel encrusted with dark bronze studs.

"Reena!" the shadow bellowed,

Jak's eyes adjusted to the sudden light, and the bearded fellow who had just interrupted the whole affair was thrown into sharp relief. His deep-set, narrow eyes swivelled to Jak's bony form and took in every inch of him. Instantly rage flared behind those none-too-intelligent spheres, like a blacksmith's bellow blowing embers to life, and with a roar the ruffian hurled himself at Jak- cudgel swinging wildly. Jak did not take kindly to people engaging in such activity, with reflexes suddenly zealous and sober; Jak ducked under the man's lunge and threw himself to one side. Taking up his short swords, Jak barely managed to deflect the brutes' second advance, but Jak was able to recover- and quickly the fight turned into a scuffle of swings and chops- blade meeting cudgel just in time to avoid meeting flesh. The harper screamed, it was only then that Jak realised exactly how quickly this chain of events had occurred- time had a habit of running as it chose in situations like this, Jak mused between parries.

It was evident that Jak was the greater fighter in this bout, and before long the fiend's chest was heaving from exertion. Realising he had no intention to harm this fellow, for all intents and purposes Jak had just been about to cuckold his lady friend, therefore Jak took a moment to feint. Relying on the lout seizing Jak's apparent loss of concentration –Jak avoided the predictable and unsophisticated lunge, and promptly rapped the brute on the back of the head with the hilt of his swords. The rascal then proceeded to tumble to the floor with a sound like a house collapsing, and all was still- except for the harpers screams.

Without a second thought, Jak grabbed his belongings- thanking the Gods that he had had the mind to prepare them as he had done –and darted from the room, but not before he had delivered the harper a final wink and winning smile. Unfortunately, the screams had alerted the entire tavern, and Jak narrowly avoided the swing of another fine example of a studded cudgel from a tavern guard as he exited the room. Swerving mid-duck, Jak ran back down the corridor the direction he had so stealthily entered before, and threw himself down the backstairs- the coolness of the night instantly erupting his bare skin in goose pimples. Shivering, Jak sprinted across the cobbled courtyard; jumped, pulled open the door of the stable and dived inside, where instantly his nostrils were filled with the rich and heady scent of straw and horse filth. Casting his eyes about, he quickly located Swift, raced over and banged open her stall door- which clattered and groaned loudly enough to cause the other horses to whicker and stamp in their sleep. Throwing his clothing and saddlebags over Swift's back, Jak quickly belted his swords about his waist and tied his boot laces together- before hanging the pair about his neck. Swift eyed him askance; she had whinnied slightly at her abrupt awakening and ended up nipping Jak on the shoulder when he failed to give her any attention.

"Ouch! Sorry girl, no time for a saddle- we need to make a move and sharp" he explained in a whisper,

Swift merely snorted a little and stood deathly still as Jak scrambled on to her back with little in the way of grace; perhaps he wasn't as zealous and sober as he had previously imagined after all. Clucking Swift into a soft canter, Jak began to guide her out of the stable- his exit was however blocked by the lanky figure of the young stablehand. Mouthing for the boy to move and gesticulating wildly, Jak was quickly introduced to a second bout of time pattern irregularity.

With a scornful twist of his face, the stablehand shook his head and threw the silver penny he had received earlier back towards Jak's face, and with a hefty donkey kick- pushed open the doors to the stable. Arrayed on the cobblestones outside was a party of cudgel-wielders, including the somewhat boss-eyed opponent of earlier fame. Exhaling loudly, Jak nimbly caught the silver penny, heeled Swift forward and slapped the stablehand around the head for his impertinence. The ruffians surged forward as Jak emerged into the courtyard, and Swift span madly to avoid being caught round the head with brass-studded wood. Quite suddenly, Swift kicked out- taking one brute square in the chest, catapulting him into the stablehand, and down into a heap inside the stable. Simultaneously, Swift took a hefty bite of another ruffian's cheek- who roared and swung wildly, hitting one of his comrades square in his gaping mouth. The boss-eyed fiend, backed away as a Swift suddenly reared with a deafening neigh and ran back into the tavern- an act impeded quite totally by the sudden appearance of a band of the taverns patrons, many bearing arms, suddenly rushing to exit the common room and investigate the commotion.

Jak had been somewhat useless throughout all of this, riding without a saddle was fraught with dangers he had suddenly re-discovered, and his utmost concentration was given to staying mounted. Seeing the sudden mass of sword-bearing drunken patrons, Jak made the executive decision to leave the _Badger_- and hastily heeled Swift into a run, out onto the village streets.

Unfortunately, all sense of direction suddenly evaporated from Jak's consciousness; which was how Jak was to be found madly riding through the streets of Reynes in the middle of the night, semi-naked. The screams and roars from the _Badger_ had pierced the still air of the quiet rural village, awakening the locals and raising the village guard. Moreover, when Jak finally did locate the entrance gate he had used earlier that day- he was now followed by an entourage of enraged tavern patrons, tavern guards, village guards, Bil Arend, the harper and the harper's boss eyed lover –all of which were now on horseback, and where chasing him at breakneck speed. Across the grassy expanse of hills that surrounded Reynes they chased Jak; through sheep-farms, through orchards, and even through a small wood inhabited by a deranged hermit named Rook. How long they chased him, Jak didn't know- for at some point, as inconceivable as it seemed, despite the heavy mist that hung in the air and slicked Jak's fringe to his face– Jak exhaustedly fell into a deep slumber. This was perhaps helped somewhat by the sudden collision of a gnarled apple at high speed to Jak's temple during the middle of his flight; Rook the hermit did not take kindly to intruders in his wood, especially when Rook had been attempting to become better acquainted with a sheep he had 'rescued' from a local farm earlier that afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

Jak stumbled down a large wooded embankment towards a small, yet fast running stream no wider than six paces- which he jumped in one smooth motion as if mass and weight were of no importance. The air hummed as if excited, though whether it hummed malevolently or benevolently- he could not say. A fine mist hung over the ground, swirling and eddying has Jak strode towards his destination- a soft light in the distance. He dodged between pine and birch, ash and fir- his feet crunching upon a bed of leaves, needles, acorns and conkers. Until eventually, suddenly, he reached his destination. He halted mid stride, his chest barely moving despite the exertion of his run. Before him stood a tall, slender female figure garbed in a flowing gown of silver and blue. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the strange light, and her long dark hair hung full and flowing down her back. Wordlessly he stumbled towards her, one arm outstretched- and as he did, the light dimmed to almost pitch darkness. He grasped her hand and pulled her around to face him, with no time to take in what he was seeing he lowered his mouth to hers as the darkness rolled over him. Her small mouth was warm and eager against his; almost luxuriously she wrapped her arms about him and began to rake her nails against his back. Harder and faster her nails scratched at his skin, until it became quite painful. Painful enough, Jak mused, to draw blood…

Jak's eyes flickered open, and he stared blankly up at the leafy canopy above him, through which the golden light of morning poured through like treacle- bathing the world in a strange half-twilight. Feeling and memory started to suffuse Jak's body; his head ached like a late-night spent on apple brandy- situated entirely in his right temple. Furthermore, his back burnt with a sharp pain from the persistent scratching of the woman's fingernails- except quite instantly Jak realised there had been no scratching and no woman. The burning and sharp stabbing increased, Jak sleepily wriggled to make it stop, which only increased his pain- in an ideal world he would have chosen a better bed to sleep on than one made of stinging nettles. Nettles for a bed, a bed full of nettles- those thoughts crashed through Jak's mind like an avalanche, and in an instant Jak was on his feet, leaping around, yelping in pain, cold and very much still semi-naked.

As he capered away from the nettles, slapping himself to try and stem the pain, Jak cast a weary glance about his surroundings. Swift eyed him with a gleeful glint in her eye, if horses could laugh- Swift was having her sides split, if her snorts and whinnies were anything to go by. On the floor at the foot of a rather young and supple-looking silver birch, was a crumpled pile of his clothing- hastily Jak removed the boots from around his neck, that he had not asphyxiated himself in his sleep was almost a miracle in itself, and dropped them atop his clothing with his equally-as-hastily-removed twin short swords. Skipping from one foot to another and attempting not to yelp quite so much like a cat with its tail caught, Jak looked around for some heal-leaf; wherever there be poison, there be the cure- or so the catechism went. As if by elf-magick, Jak suddenly heard a rushing and a gurgling- not quite the heal-leaf he had hoped for to cure his ailment, but quite surely a flowing stream, which meant water, which meant mud; glorious soothing mud to slap on his sores. Hastily pulling off his smallclothes, Jak began running with reckless abandon headlong into the wood, heedless to his surroundings- and in some short time found his body of running water- which by the look of it was quite obviously the Hogsmylle. Thanking the Gods for having such a smart horse like Swift for bringing him back to their camp of a day previous, Jak dived headfirst into the fast running water without a care- and welcomed the cooling embrace of its crisp depths.

For some time Jak enjoyed himself, splashing around like a fisherman's daughter at low-tide, and swathing his back in cold mud like a hot hog. In fact, Jak was so preoccupied by his self indulgence that he failed to feel the pair of eyes that had been excruciatingly examining him for the entirety of his bathing session. But Jak was a ranger of Worstar, and if sometimes his roguish tendencies did appear to belie a fool in a king's clothing- the truth was quite to the contrary, although the odd error of judgement was not beyond comprehension. Eventually Jak felt the penetrating stare upon him, and the sudden shock quite nearly gave Jak an apoplexy- though outwardly no show did he give of his surprise. Cursing both his nakedness and his lack of short swords, Jak forced himself to stillness- the eyes were most definitely female, and not human –how he knew, he knew not, but he was sure he knew. Suddenly, from his lounging position next to the bank he looked up and fixed a direct stare into the mid-distance where he felt the stare coming from,

"Haven't you had enough of an eyeful of me for one day? It would be polite to come out and at least offer me the same entertainment!" Jak exclaimed with a wry grin,

The resulting gasp was quite satisfactory, and from the wooded depths strode forward a willowy figure with long dark hair framing her pale heart-shaped face. She was garbed in a tight set of hunting leathers, the colours of which seemed to shift and change with the environment- now green, now brown –a rainbow of the forest. In her hands she carried a long, narrow bow of sinuous wood- an arrow nocked from the quiver at her waist. None of this was what drew Jak's eyes however, not even her fine ankles- for she wore no boots –or her substantial bosom could tear Jak's stare from her face. Her mouth was small and upturned at the corners as if ready to smile or laugh, her small yet sharp nose perfectly separated her unnaturally large and bright eyes of the deepest green- but most importantly, her ears, the tops of which protruded through her luscious ebony hair- were pointed. The elf-maiden stopped at the rivers edge and Jak for the first time in as long as his memory could suffice him, knew doubt- and almost fear.

Elves were a clever and usually gentle folk, deeply spiritual and revered the known-world over- nonetheless they were a race apart, their immortality separated them from the world of men, which to the elves was fast, desperate and fleeting. Contact between the races was a rare occurrence, and how this elf-maiden would take to a naked ranger frolicking in the mud inside her realm was quite outside of Jak's knowledge. Swallowing hard, he stood up and immediately wished he hadn't- as for a second the elf-maidens eyes had cast themselves over his form. Jak began silently cursing the Gods for providing him with such a useless excuse for a horse- bringing him to the elf-realm, dropping him in nettles and letting him make a fool of himself!

There would be no living with Swift after this.


	5. Chapter 5

"You are either a very ignorant fool or a very brave one, to ride in to the elf-realm by twilight- sleep amongst the sting weeds without a flinch and then bathe at your leisure in the great river." the elf-maiden exclaimed,

Her voice was as a gentle tinkle of wind chimes, musical and soothing- yet right now it barely hid an edge of incredulity. Jak licked his lips and tried to formulate a plan of action, a ranger survived by stealth and guile- whilst a rogue by wit and cunning, surely he could conjure something miraculous from nothing. The unexpected was his speciality, but right now the spark of inspiration seemed to have left him- in fact he felt like a child with a tinderbox in a tempest.

"Why have you come when none of your kinsfolk, or indeed your race, has feared to tread for generations amongst your people? You must have great need indeed." She continued, her eyebrows raised and her eyes expectant,

Jak cleared his voice and gave a tug to his earlobe, this truly was a pickle and no mistake. Cornered naked in a river by a bow-wielding elf-maiden with plum up her backside, summoning everything he could remember from his teachings as a child- Jak hadn't given much heed to his learnings, not when chasing foxes and hunting for conkers had been far more entertaining. Jak made as respectable bow as possible, his hand darting from heart to lips to forehead.

"High born, I do apologise most profusely for my intrusion into your great realm. I was indeed lost, mired within a great fog that had engulfed the great lawns between your realm and the villages of men in the east-"

"-Lost? A ranger of Worstar was lost under the night skies?" the elf cut in,

Jak looked down, upon his breast above his heart stood out in livid red a brand in the shape of the rune for Worstar, surrounded by nine stars. Wincing he realised he really had become the fool, rangers were renowned for their tracking and their nomadic existence- a ranger lost was an almost impossible contradiction. Jak found himself giggling nervously,

"Indeed! A strange occurrence and no mistake, high born!-"

"-Naked, asleep and bareback riding also?" she cut in once more,

Jak giggled again, this was going horribly wrong, he needed a moment to think- the pain in his temple throbbed menacingly and his back began to itch once more. Licking his lips he exhaled and decided on a method he never used to exit a tight situation before,

"In all honesty, I encountered a little trouble with a harper and her man-friend in Reynes- and via a remarkably unbelievable and problematic chain of events; which I attribute to the village folks inability to hold their drink, mind!- It hath resulted that I be brought before your very self as thee can espy now." He paused to smile, "If you would be so entreated to accompany back to my- camp –I would be more than happy to share a bowl of tabac with you, that's if you smoke, and tell my entire sojourn presently."

His explanation appeared to amuse the elf-maiden somewhat, who opened her mouth and lowered her bow slightly- before half-frowning and shaking her head,

"Your dialect is strange indeed, but your- offer –will not be necessary. You shall accompany me and present yourself before the King, he shall decide upon the truth of your words- thereafter he shall determine what disciplinary action you require if necessary." she intoned in a formal fashion,

Jak took a step forward suddenly scoffing and wild-eyed,

"Now look, this whole to-do has been seriously misunderstood, seriously! For one, I am quite obviously breechless- not an ideal way to entertain royalty. Moreover, I am quite sure your King is a fine chap with many a gracious quality- and under different circumstances I am sure we would sup and giggle like the best of brothers. But discipline isn't part of thy vocabulary I enjoy the sound of!" Jak exclaimed,

The elf-maiden who had already begun to turn as if expectant of his compliance fixed Jak with another almost-smile and playful look in her eyes, though the set of her jaw and tilt of her thin arched eyebrows willed deference.

"My brethren warned me of the wilfulness of humans, but it is a pleasure indeed to see it so indignant before me- your breeches are of no consequence I assure you. If however you wish to maintain your stubbornness, please do entreat my kin as to your woes."

And with that, she motioned behind Jak, who slowly- almost grudgingly –peered behind him and was classically unsurprised to see what he did. Thirty odd elven archers stood along the bank, all wearing similar hunting leathers and with bows nocked and drawn- aimed at Jak's chest. To one side stood one elf, bow shouldered, leading Swift by a hand placed to her neck- Jak's belongings heaped upon her rump. Jak winced, but was glad to see the elf leading Swift was bleeding from his hand- Swift was often distrustful of strangers. Sighing heavily, with a sinking feeling in his stomach and dread like a lump in his throat- Jak turned back to the elf-maiden.

"Bollocks."


End file.
